formless formulation

perfect, yes, but so what. so what? so what you say. after perfection so what you say. it comes down or up to this, for this, and me, for me, such an eye in this web of eyes, before the face, what and so come also quickly or prolonged. not anxiously, neccessarily but hinged with buts. okay, there is a perfect form, already, let's say. it's there. let's call it a landscape, what we can say, what i can say i love. she fills the horizon, is the horizon, and all that exists between this and that. i look at her and all is well, brilliant, perfect optimism. anything is possible. because there is this one being, this, that, her or me, the me silent and happy with that silence. she is perfect, lovely, form. why she? oh, because. because there is no psychology to explain it. because as so what? no, not yet. let's say i am like a gas and when i look at her i am contained in what i see. let's say i am fluid and when i look at her...you get the picture. the full smile of the room, the window open. combing hair, just in ear-shot, i can murmur, she can hear. birds whirl in the sky whirls the clouds and there are children, down there, courtyards across, screeching merrily, a radio, blast it, off. yes i love her, all is perfect. just dont think. but. when she goes away. what? also perfect. at least for a while. prolong it by discipline, meditation, then...eventually, then, no. don't break concentration. then, yes, you know, it happens. the question of form. my own. what or how it is. so-called personal history, itineraries autocircumscribed and perhaps vectors of will. i cannot graph them. there is a precedent, maybe even a "carreer"---the old meaning, as path. the form that it be unbroken. not a lie neccessarily, although a lie can come in, stand in, surrogate or sublimate the feeling of form, the "onward" etc. always against, working against, it seems, the other feeling of being not yet finished, unformed, formless, broken. there comes then yes almost a feeling of being broken or flawed. i emerge from being happy, contented, content, filled to being folded, failed, flawed, formless again. what? rather let me ask why. there cannot be two of me without an amputation of sorts, one i have not achieved. this is where the limitless atrocity of imagination stands in, surrogates, sublimates, cuns and connives. it is too easy to call it a lie because the lie was "truth once upon a time" even prospectively, in the future i mean because, well, time, dilating, contracting, blooming or withering on all sides of...what? doesn't matter yet...time is only of the essence in this perpetual prolificacy, this enduring flux in which even time is timed out occasionally or which my heart clocks not. try by breathing to correct it and that methodology can work, for a while. being connected to one's forms in the formlessness, faced with one's former faces and no i dont mind and even maybe love those faces that attach to my face, my or their half-faces, making the beast with two backs, two backs of the heads rather. an idea wherein one is what one wants to do and does and in doing so becomes the form of that. and also, this ends in so what. and you keep doing it until there comes a time you cannot. one says it doesnt even matter what it is one does and that even beyond politics is anyway going to get you in trouble eventually. formalism vs the atrocity of imagination. this also doesnt wash. the so-called society doesnt appear multi-disciplinary enough. one can't accept such limits. the fact i am writing music now is not recognized by musicians or those who listen to something they call music maybe. or it wont matter, suddenly (strangely enough), to the reader, to know this is music and not an attempt to warp the boards for noah's ark. enough. it is entriely personal and i say so what because i must say that this entirely personal declaration is also not wholly what it says it is. and from that point, i will go on. i must. because maybe i am wrong and in saying i am wrong maybe i am not. no, no. wrong again. tear it up.

July 29, 2009..............